Chapter 12: The Ninth Lesson

At some point during the night, a noise woke me quite suddenly. I opened my eyes, but my sleep-clouded vision did not reveal anything, other than the full darkness. I thought I may have called out from a dream, or started snoring, and woken myself. Deciding that there was no reason to be awake, I rolled over forcefully, and went back to sleep.

Daylight flooded my room the next time my eyes opened, and I realized that I was alone in bed. I had a huge morning erection, but didn't indulge in its relief, deciding to wait for better things. I sat up and swung my legs out of bed, then froze. She was on her knees on the floor, wearing the collar we had bought, her chin forced up by its width. Her hands were behind her, and by the way she was leaning backward, I thought that her wrists and ankles were probably clipped together.

Tears were streaming down her face; from the tracks it appeared that the ones I was seeing were fresh, and many others had been there before. I stared, stupefied and shocked. She looked up at me, eyes brimming, but took a deep breath and seemed to calm herself. In a quavering voice, she began to speak.

"I am so sorry for what I did yesterday. I did not think of us, I thought only of myself. I did not even realize what I had done to you until later, after we went home. I have no excuse; I was a fool. I was thinking only about the sex, and not about what my actions were doing to you.

"I love you, and I would never want to do anything to hurt you. I know now that I have hurt you deeply. I am scared to death that this could mean the end of us; I don't think I can go on without you. I am here, like this, to accept your punishment. I offer myself to whatever you want to do to me. I only hope that I can atone for the way I hurt you and that you can learn to trust me once more. I will understand if you cannot bring yourself to forgive me."

I sat, saying nothing for a moment. In truth, I had planned to have a long discussion with her about the day's events, more from my fear that she was tending to submit too easily to sexual situations. I had been concerned that she could one day find herself in trouble. It seemed that the realization had struck her rather hard.

What she did not know was that I had been doing some of my own research into sexual submissiveness as a tangent to our research project. I had started this after the first time that her submissive side had appeared; last night's additional research hadn't given me any new insights into that side of her. I knew that her submissiveness was an aspect of her psychological makeup, and that nothing I did would ever make it go away. What I hoped was that I could instill in her sufficient caution such that she would submit only to me, or to someone else only when I was there to protect her.

I had been trying to come up with a plan in which I could show her that I was more dominant than anyone else with whom she might come into contact. My thinking was that if I appeared strongly dominant, she would be less likely to submit to anyone else, on the grounds that she already had a dominant controlling her. My difficulty in trying to do this was that I had always seen her as an equal, and never my subordinate. Were we to actually go through life together, I had no plans to do it as unequal partners. She had solved one problem for me, by presenting herself in collar and restraints, subjugating herself voluntarily. As I watched her, the solution suddenly struck me—the collar. I knew in an instant what I had to do, and the approach that I needed to take.

I cleared my throat. "How long have you been kneeling here, presented like this?"

"Since the middle of the night. I came here as soon as I realized what I had done, and figured out a possible way to beg for you to punish me."

"Did you make some kind of noise when you got here?"

"Oh, no ... did I wake you up? I dropped something when I was getting the collar and stuff out of your closet, and I heard you move around in bed, but I didn't think I had woken you."

"So, something else that you need to be punished for."

New tears started rolling down her cheeks, but I knew that I could not succumb to those. I had to maintain my resolve, or this problem would simply recur at some future time, with potentially bigger consequences. I moved directly in front of her, then reached out and hooked a finger through the ring on the front of her collar. I pulled up on it sharply, focusing her entire attention on me; I looked right into her eyes, and spoke in a clear firm voice.

"When you are wearing this collar, you are no longer a person. You are property—my property. I can and will do with you whatever I wish; you have no say in the matter. As property, you no longer have any identity. You will be referred to as 'slut', or 'slave'; when you refer to yourself, you are not permitted to use your name, or any personal pronoun. You may use terms such as 'this slut', or 'this slave.' When you are wearing this collar, you will address me as 'Master', or 'Sir.' As my property, you have no free will; your sole responsibility is to do as you are told by me, and only by me. I am the only person who may place a collar around your neck. I am the only person who may remove a collar from around your neck."

I had seen her eyes widen when I grabbed the ring on the collar, and again as I gave her the instructions regarding her new identity, or lack thereof. I waited for a moment to let the pronouncements sink in. Her gaze never faltered, and I could only imagine that she felt as if she had just been introduced to someone she had never met before. "Did you understand all of that?"

She started to nod, then stopped; in a quiet voice. She said, "Yes, Master."

"You will answer all questions put to you in a full sentence. You will never simply nod or shake your head ... and I do not ever again wish to have to repeat myself. Now, I ask you again, did you understand all of that?"

She gulped once. "Yes Master, this slave understood everything. This slave is very sorry for making you repeat yourself. This slave will do her best to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"I guess we'll see about that."

I slid forward on the bed, putting my butt right at the edge. My penis was pointing directly at her face. Using the ring in the collar, I pulled her toward it. As the head reached her lips, she opened her mouth and I slipped it in. She started moving to take it deeper, expecting that I would want to fuck her face, but I stopped her forward movement. "Just the head, and do a good job."

Immediately, she tightened her lips behind the head, and put her wicked tongue to work. She knew all of my hot spots, and did her best to hit all of them with her tongue. She pulled back slightly to take a grip on my foreskin with her lips, then pushed forward, forcing it off my glans. That wicked tongue circled the entire corona, now that it was bare, then centered on the frenulum. The sensation had me hissing air in through my teeth.

I debated about whether to let her finish me, and decided that a little humiliation would help reinforce the concept of slavery that I was trying to get across. As her tongue continued working, my arousal ramped up, and I knew that I wouldn't last much longer. As I felt the point of no return arriving, I grabbed a handful of her hair to hold her head in place. She was probably expecting me to force myself into her throat, but I did just the opposite. When I felt the first contraction forcing the cum up my shaft, I pulled out of her mouth, and grabbed my penis in my free hand. That first shot laid a stripe from her forehead to her chin; the second one laid a parallel stripe on the other side of her face. As I jacked myself with the other hand I painted the bridge of her nose, across both eyes, and into her hair. The final shot landed on her lips, some of it going into her open mouth.

I stood up and headed to the bathroom. She may have thought I was going to get a cloth to clean her up, but I was there to deal with my full bladder. She would wear my markings until I decided that it was time to clean them off. When I returned, I bent to her cuffs, and disconnected her wrists from her ankles, then unclipped her ankles so she could walk. I helped her stand up, then went to pull on a pair of shorts.

I took her by the elbow, and helped her walk down the stairs, then along the hall and into the garage. I picked up a kneeling pad that my mother used for gardening, and dropped it on the floor. I told her to kneel, and re-clipped her ankles together, then clipped her wrists to them once again. My next move shocked her—I opened the garage door, then came back to stand in front of her.

In her mind, she was on full display to anyone who might happen by. Her presentation could not be more humiliating: naked, collared, restrained, and with a face covered in cum. In reality, the only way that anyone would actually see her would be if they came all the way into the garage. The geography of our driveway, and the surrounding flora ensured that she could not be seen by anyone casually walking or driving by.

Without saying a word, I dropped to one knee, then moved a hand between her open thighs. I slipped a finger between her labia, and discovered that she was soaking wet; being restrained agreed with her, but I knew that she would soon hate her lack of mobility. I moved the finger along her folds to her clitoris, and began rubbing it back and forth. She gasped at the sensations I was causing, and opened her legs a bit more. I had no intention of letting her come, but did plan to keep her on edge for most of the day as it would serve as part of her lesson. I took her clit between my finger and thumb, and began rolling it back and forth, pushing her arousal quickly higher. She began breathing heavily, and I locked my eyes with her.

"When you are wearing my collar, you are not permitted to come without permission. Orgasms must be earned. You must ask for permission, but there is no guarantee that it will be granted. If you come without permission, you will be punished."

"Yes, Master, this slave understands."

With barely a breath in between, she pleaded, "Master, may this slave come?"

"No, you may not. You will be punished if you come." I didn't stop my manipulations of her clit, and I could tell that she was very close to going over the edge, regardless of what punishment I threatened her with. She was moaning, and whimpering, and so close to coming that I knew she would not be able to hold off—her body would simply betray her will. I finally stopped my movements, and let go of her clit. She moaned in disappointment and in relief, having lost an orgasm, but avoided a punishment. I wiped my wet finger along her upper lip, then stood and headed for the weight bench.

I lifted weights for the next twenty minutes, occasionally glancing at her. Her eyes never left me, her look filled with love and devotion, and a tinge of fear, I thought. When I was done, I replaced the bar, and toweled off. I walked over to her, and dropped to one knee again. The look on her face changed, and I think she knew what was about to happen. I reached out for her clitoris once more, this time taking it between finger and thumb right away, not giving her a chance to build into arousal. I rubbed it very firmly, rolling the little bud around, and watching her face. "I think we need to get a clip for this clit, one with teeth. Maybe that will keep it from controlling you so much. Would you like that, slut?"

"Yes, Master. This slut will wear whatever you attach to its body."

I watched her closely, judging when she was about to ask permission to come again, and kept rubbing through the question. The instant she finished speaking, I let go of her clit, and said, "I'd say that was another 'no', slave." I stood up, and once again placed the head of my penis at her lips. Her mouth opened, and I moved forward, this time pushing my entire length into her mouth, and her throat. I held my position for a few seconds, then withdrew.

I reached behind her to free her wrists from her ankles, and to unclip her ankles. I helped her to stand up, then led her over to the end of the weight bench. "Kneel down, spread your knees wide apart. Bend over and lay on the bench." She followed my commands without comment. I walked over to the workbench and picked up a length of rope, then came back to her. I unclipped her wrists, and attached one end of the rope to her right cuff. Pulling her hand straight out in front of her, I looped the rope over the weight rack, then attached it to the cuff on her left wrist. I pulled the rope taut, and added a little more tension to it, before tying it off.

She was now pulled over the weight bench, the end of which came just at her hips. While she might be able to stand up, it would take some effort, as she wouldn't have the use of her hands. I walked back to the workbench, and rummaged through a few things until I found what I was after. Until a few months ago, we had had a ping-pong table in the garage, but had decided to get rid of it. For some reason, we had not thrown out the paddles, and this was what I sought.

These were near-professional quality paddles, with solid rubber surfaces on both sides, one slightly softer than the other. Typical paddles had sandpaper on one side, and a thin rubber layer on the other. I had no desire to remove the skin from her bottom, although I did intend to redden it somewhat. Paddling her in this fashion would be much more impersonal than a spanking, and I wanted her to know that this was for punishment and not pleasure.

I hit the control for the garage door, as I did not want any noises she might make to alert the neighbours. I walked back over to her; she turned her head to look at me, and saw the paddle in my hand. A look of fear came over her, and her face went noticeably pale. I put the paddle on the bench in front of her, clearly in her field of view.

"I am going to spank you with this paddle. This will be the first of several punishments that you have incurred. You will count each stroke as it lands, and then you will ask politely for the next. Understood?"

"Yes, Master. This slave understands. May this slave ask how many strokes there will be?"

"No, you may not. It is for me to decide based on the colour of your bottom, and my determination as to whether you are learning anything from this punishment." From my research, I knew that the primary reason for making her count the spanks, and ask for each in turn, was to increase the humiliation associated with the punishment. I wanted her to remember this punishment, as I did not want to have to give another one in the future.

I moved behind her, off to one side and delivered the first blow to her left cheek. It landed with a loud 'splat' sound, and she yelped in pain. It took her a moment to catch her breath, and to realize that I wasn't fooling around; I really did intend to make her suffer with the paddling. I was on the verge of reminding her to count, when she finally said, quietly, "One, Master. May this slave please have another?"

In response, I delivered another blow, this time to the right cheek, with the same force. She yelped again, and again I waited until the count had been given and the next stroke requested. Two more strokes followed in quick succession; she made the same sound with each, but continued to count in a steady, though quiet voice.

I stopped to look at her ass, and could see that it had brightened a little, but was showing no signs of mottling or bruising. I knew therefore that while what I was doing must have a hell of a sting to it, the cushion of the rubber covering on the paddle was absorbing much of the force of each blow.

I continued on, spreading the strikes around her delectable rear, keeping the pain even, and watching the effect by the colour her rear was turning. It was now a uniform deep pink all over. She had not missed a single count, but her yells had become quiet little grunts in response to each strike. It seemed that even though the skin of her rear must be more sensitive, she was getting used to the pain.

After a few more whacks, I remembered something I had read about the sexual effect of spanking, and I stopped for a moment. I ran a hand over the globes of her ass, feeling the heat rising from each one. I pulled one cheek slightly to the side, and looked between her thighs. Surprisingly, her labia were in full flower, and obviously wet; she was responding to the spanking by becoming aroused.

I stepped back into position, and resumed the spanking, observing her more closely. I soon realized that what I add assumed were little grunts of pain were, in reality, the same noises she made as she was approaching climax. I kept a close eye on her, as pushing her into an orgasm would negate the effect of the spanking; she would equate it with sexual pleasure, and not punishment. After a few more whacks, she started to accompany the grunts with little whimpers. When I stopped to rub her ass once more, the whimpering continued, and I could hear her saying "Please ... please ... please" under her breath.

I gave her rear another set of whacks, and her rote response changed suddenly. "Please, Master, please ... may this slave come, Master?"

"No, slave. This is punishment. If I had wanted to spank you for my pleasure, or for yours, I would have used my hand." She gave a long, low moan of disappointment, punctuated by more whimpering, and I could tell that she had been right on the edge of the orgasm. I filed this information away for the future, as one day I might actually want to spank her for fun and pleasure, and it seemed that she really would enjoy it.

I put the ping-pong paddle aside, deciding that it probably should be kept in my closet, along with the rest of our stock of special toys. I untied the rope from her wrist cuffs, but immediately clipped them behind her back, as I didn't want her fingers to finish her orgasm. I helped her to stand up, then walked her over to one side of the garage, facing the wall. "Stay there. Spread your legs a couple of feet apart. Face the wall. Do not speak."

On the way back to the weight bench to collect the rope, I swung past the garage door, and hit the button to open it again. I thought I heard a small gasp coming from her, but I chose to ignore the possibility. I had decided to leave her like that for about an hour, partly to think about what she had done and to reflect on the spanking, and partly to increase her level of humiliation. I knew that being placed on display like that, especially with the possibility of someone seeing her, would keep her on edge, and thinking about her predicament.

I picked up a basketball, and went out into the driveway; I started shooting hoops to work off some of the tension in my body, and to help me think through this problem. After five minutes I walked back into the garage and came up behind her. I reached around her, and ran a finger through the wet folds of her pussy, rubbing her clitoris firmly until she started panting, ready to ask for permission to come. As the she started to say "Master... ," I withdrew my fingers, and wiped them across her upper lip. "No, you may not come." I spun around and went back outside.

After another five minutes of shooting baskets, I repeated the little assault on her pussy, and her senses. Five minutes later, I did it again. By the fourth repetition, I could hear her starting to whimper as soon as I got close; when I touched her pussy, tears started rolling down her cheeks, so frustrated was she at not being allowed to come. Once again I rubbed her clit firmly, then stopped and wiped my wet fingers on her lip, and left the garage.

I decided to keep this up for a full hour before relenting, driving home the point as to what it was like to be fully under the control of someone else. Every five minutes I came into the garage, rubbed her clit until she started to beg, wiped my finger on her lips, and left. After the first half-hour she started sobbing as soon as she heard me enter the garage, and began pleading with me to let her come. Listening to her was killing me, but I knew that I had to go through with it; the lesson had to be harsh or it would be meaningless.

Another half-dozen times I brought her to the brink of orgasm. Another half-dozen times I hardened myself to her tears and her pleading. Another half-dozen times I wiped her juices on her lips. Amazingly, she never once tried to avoid me, never once tried to leave the garage, never once broke from the position I had put her in. I had nothing but respect for this girl, even as I was trying to show her the error of her ways.

At the end of the hour, I rubbed her clit one more time, once again stopping short of her orgasm. After I stopped the stimulation, and wiped my finger on her lips, I took her by the elbow and walked her over to the garage entrance. This would be the most dangerous part of her lesson, as we really could get caught in the next few minutes. I took her out into the driveway, under the basketball hoop. I told her to kneel, and helped her down, then knelt in front of her. I reached for her pussy, and started lightly circling her clit with my finger.

I pulled up on her collar with my other hand, forcing her to look into my eyes. "Do you want to come, slut?"

"Yes please, Master. Please let me come."

"How badly do you want to come?" My finger kept moving, not quite stimulating her enough to come, but certainly keeping her entire being focused on her clit, and how close to an orgasm she was.

"M-Master? What do you mean?"

"Want to come right here, where anyone can see you, and everyone can hear you?"

"Please, Master. Don't make me do that, please."

"Well, I guess you don't want to come all that badly, then. If that's the case, I'll just put you back where you were, and we'll go back to playing the game, and you won't get to come for a long time, but I'll get to play with you every few minutes."

"Please, Master ... please let me come."

"Well, if you really want to come, it's going to be right here, so you might want to figure out a way to be quiet."

"Please, Master. Please ... I'll do anything. Please don't make me come out here. Someone will see."

"You'll do anything if I don't make you come out here?"

"Anything, Master. Please ... don't make me come out here."

"You realize that 'anything' covers a lot of territory." I stood up and lowered my shorts, putting my penis right at her lips. I waited to see what she would do. She looked up at me, and tears began to roll down her face, but her lips remained closed. "Are you refusing an order from your Master?"

Her eyes stayed locked with mine, tears streaming down her face and dripping onto her breasts, but her lips remained closed, not even answering my question. She likely thought that I would insert my penis if she opened her mouth for any reason. After another moment I pulled my shorts back up, and walked back into the garage, leaving her kneeling outside. I positioned myself out of her view, but able to see the neighbourhood around us; there was not a soul in sight, so I knew that we were safe from being compromised.

I gave her five minutes in this position, which probably seemed like an hour to her, exposed as she was. I walked back out, and dropped to one knee, once again holding the collar in one hand, while the other went back to her clit, slightly firmer this time. "So, what's it going to be, slut? Do you get to come, or do you suck my cock, or do we go for both?"

"Please, Master. Don't make me do those things out here. I'll do anything you want if we can go in. We can even go in the backyard, but please not out here."

"You wanted to play around with exhibitionism ... I'm just giving you what you wanted. You're on display for everyone to see, so why don't you want the complete experience? You were fine having sex yesterday with a complete stranger, so why won't you give your Master something today?"

Please, Master, please punish me again, but don't make me do anything out here."

I decided that the time had come to bring this lesson to a conclusion. I took my hands off of her, and stood up, forcing her to look up at me. "So, you won't actually do anything that your Master says. Why?"

"Please, Master. This slave was so wrong yesterday. Please punish me, Master, but please take me back inside. I'm so scared."

"Do you see what your behaviour has led you to? Do you understand the kind of trouble you could have been in? That woman wanted you to come back and stay with her, and you were ready to do that. Do you understand what could have happened to you if you had done that?"

I could see from the quizzical look on her face that she hadn't fully associated my behaviour toward her today with the potential consequences of her behaviour yesterday. To this point she had simply thought that I was exacting revenge for not being included in yesterday's sexual activities. All of a sudden, the realization struck her—a look of horror and abject terror flashed across her face. In an instant, she had realized what this entire day's activities had really been all about; she knew that I hadn't simply been trying to punish her, but that I was trying to show her what could happen to her if she let her submissive nature get out of control.

She wailed loudly, and started sobbing in despair, nearly collapsing on her face; had my legs not been in her way, she would likely have broken her nose on the concrete. I stooped and gathered her into my arms, then picked her up and cradled her gently while I carried her back inside, closing the door on the way. I carried her through the house, and up to my bedroom, gently laying her on my bed.

I unclipped all of her restraints, then climbed in and wrapped her in my arms and legs, and held her as tightly as I could while the emotions ran wild within her. She sobbed uncontrollably for close to half an hour, and then subsided, still breathing deeply. After a few more minutes, the deep breathing continued and I could feel her body relaxing, the stress finally starting to leave it. I realized that she had fallen asleep; a night spent kneeling on the floor followed by the morning's punishment activities finally taking its toll on her. I lay beside her, watching her face, knowing how much I loved her, and wanting only to protect her and keep her safe.

She slept for an hour, then suddenly gave a start, and woke up, disoriented. I had been watching her face the entire time, so I was the first thing she saw when her eyes opened. When she realized where she was, and that she was safe, she gave a loud sob, and buried her head in my chest, crying again. After about five minutes, she calmed down, but stayed where she was; I could feel her breathing deeply against my chest, but I wasn't sure what she was doing. After about another five minutes, she pulled back and looked into my eyes.

"Master, this slave needs your permission to speak, for she has something to say. However, what she has to say would best be done on her knees, with all of her cuffs fastened. If Master would help... ?" She rolled over and sat up, then climbed out of the bed and got on her knees, looking up at me expectantly. I got up and went behind her, clipping her wrists and ankles together, then attaching those to each other. When she was once again fully restrained, I walked back in front of her, and sat on the bed, looking into her eyes.

She knelt with her head down for a moment, gathering her thoughts, then looked up into my eyes and solemnly began to speak. "Master, this slave thanks you for the manner in which you have disciplined her; she deserved all of it. She stupidly thought you were doing it just to punish her for not providing you with an orgasm yesterday. She has seen the error of her ways. She knows that your concerns went much deeper than the trivial lack of an orgasm or two. She finally understands that your treatment and your mannerisms were an attempt to show her what someone else could have done, had she so easily accepted their advances and given into her submissiveness." She paused for a moment, and her expression softened for a moment. "She gets it, she really does."

After a quick little smile, her expression grew stern again, and she continued. "This slave has finally realized that her submissive nature can easily get her into trouble, unless she is mindful of to whom she is submitting. She used to think that being submissive was fun, and thinks it still can be, as long as she is very careful about the recipient.

"Master, you have shown this slave, through your actions today that you are easily more dominant than anyone that this slave could imagine. Therefore, Master, this slave pledges her body and her soul to you, forever. This slave desires no other dominant than you, and this slave will never again submit to anyone but you." A few tears began rolling down her cheeks with the emotion of her final statement. She stopped speaking; her eyes were locked on mine, and she was stunned when I finally spoke.

"No. I do not accept your pledge of eternal submission to me."

"B-b-but, Master, I love you, and..."

"If we are truly lovers and soul mates, destined to be with each other for the rest of our lives, then we cannot be Master and slave; we can only be equals. Our relationship is a partnership. We started in life as neighbours and best friends, and then became lovers. We did all of this as equals; we helped each other to grow and learn. We each taught the other different skills; now we are teaching each other about sex, and discovering what turns us on, or equally, what turns us off. We can't suddenly change that relationship into one in which I tell you what to do, and you blindly obey. I do not want a mindless robot, as sexy as she is; I want a friend, a lover, and a partner.